Whipped Into Shape
by Fiyeraaron
Summary: He thought he would be alone. Instead, he got assaulted, patronised, and a reason to be happy.


Yeah, he's confused. He always comes at 10pm, mainly to ensure that it is deserted, and so that he will definitely get a good night's sleep. A bit of work on the cross trainer, maybe lift a few weights, and then finish with an appropriate dose of the treadmill. Easy way to sleep and be fully rejuvenated for the day ahead.

And, yes, he is socially awkward, so it's best to do it alone. Of course, there was this one time that a girl kept trying to talk to him when he was working out. She had blonde hair and large blue eyes, and she kept smiling and waving at him while he was lifting weights. Then, a well built man with big arms came up to him and told him to stop flirting with his girlfriend. He had narrowly avoided being punched in the face by nodding quickly and leaving the gym. That was the day he stopped going at 6pm and began going at 10pm, an hour before it closed.

And it was always, _always_ empty. He doesn't know why, because being alone means being focused, and being focused means more time to exercise. It's simple math, really, and even he, an overprivileged, blond haired, blue eyed, white boy who majored in law, knows that.

So it's certainly a shock to turn the corner, stretching his arms after lifting weights for 20 minutes, to find a woman at the punching bags. He can't hear, due to the heavy music from his headphones, but from what he can see, she is beating them very hard. He stops in his tracks and looks at her.

She is petite, probably just reaching his shoulders. Brunette hair pulled into a high ponytail, a small waist highlighted by a black sports bra and tight shorts. She has olive skin, and her pink trainers are jumping slightly on the floor, making her pony tail swing back and forth gently. He frowns at the sight, stereotypically thinking that she doesn't belong there, punching a large red bag, directly next to the treadmills.

How awkward would that be, if he just walked next to her silently and just started running on the treadmill? Surely they would make some uncomfortable eye contact, probably nod their heads slightly in respect, before carrying on with their respective activities. He couldn't deal with that, it would just make it all the more awkward at 11pm when they were both kicked out by Tim, the personal trainer who always smiles at Enjolras.

What if she tried to make conversation? He was terrible at small talk! Combeferre always has to take over whenever somebody attempts to speak to Enjolras, the blond man incapable of conversing normally. He would probably ask her about her opinion on the current state of their government's affairs instead of talking about normal things such as the weather or why they are here at such a late hour.

But, working on impulse, he walks up to her. He's already too close to her to stop when he second guesses his instincts. He pulls his earphones out in readiness. Thing is, he could start a conversation with her so that it wouldn't be awkward, or he could alternatively run from the gym and never return? Both were plausible situations. Yet, as he takes another step, he realises that the exit is on the other side of the gym, and there's no way he can spin around without her noticing.

So he taps her on the shoulder. He sees her falter in shock, and then he sees her hair spin around. He catches a glimpse of brown eyes before his eyes are forced close by a punch to the face. He staggers backwards, his hands flying to his nose. He swallows as he feels blood drip from his nose, the pain in his head affecting his eye sight.

He hears the girl curse as he bends over and groans, and suddenly her hands are guiding his body to the chairs across the room. He sits down on one, not daring to open his eyes and look at her. She leaves for a few moments, he supposes, because she returns with a few cloths, and passes them to him.

His eyes open and he takes a few seconds to survey her. Her skin is glistening slightly, and there are a few tendrils of curls falling at the sides of her face. Her body is very toned, and she places her hands on her hips. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, letting it rest against the wall behind him. Nipping his nose with the wet cloth, he hears her speak.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

His eyes snap open and he looks at the girl in astonishment.

"Excuse me?"

Her eyes are alight with anger, and he briefly thinks that the roles are very skewed in this situation.

"You tapped me on the shoulder when I was clearly busy. Why would you interrupt me from that?" She waves her hands in the direction of the punching bags, and his mouth gapes open.

"You punched me in the face. I am almost certain that my nose is broken. What the hell were _you_ thinking?" He tries to lift an eyebrow sassily, but it somehow hurts his nose, so he just settles for putting his head against the wall.

"Keep your head forward, idiot. Do you want to make it worse? I am _not_ taking you to the hospital."

"But it feels much better to lay it back." He groans, his head feeling very heavy.

"I don't give a fuck, blondie." She places her hands on his head and pushes it forward so he is staring at the floor. "Keep it down, fuckboy."

He moans slightly. "Why did you punch me?" He lifts his eyes up to her, looking at her through his lashes, and he can see her falter slightly. Then suddenly her eyes are angry again.

"You interrupted me. I came here to be alone, so I could vent my anger without being interrupted. Yet I get interrupted anyway, coming at the time I was told would make the gym deserted. Plus, you scared me. Who interrupts someone when they're obviously angry and punching things?!" She rolls her eyes at him. "And now I'm stuck here with _you_ , when I could be venting out my anger. God knows I'm even more pissed now, thanks to _this_ unfortunate event." She motions her arms to him, her eyes glaring at him.

He shakes his head at her, wincing when it hurts to move. "You punched me. I should be the pissed one, but I'm getting yelled at instead. It's not my fault that I was shocked and confused and curious." His voice is becoming slurred, and he wonders if this is a side effect of this very powerful girl's punch.

"Are you slurring? Do you have a headache?" Her voice is steady but fast, and he just nods his head slightly. "Okay, we need to lay you down on the floor."

He looks up at her through blurry eyes. "What?"

"You have a concussion." She takes a hold of his arms, moving him slightly. He stands up and tries to lay down without assistance, but he becomes dizzy at the sudden movement. She mutters under her breath as she practically lays him down on the floor. "Wow, to say you're pretty muscly, you really are quite weak."

When he's officially on the floor, he tries to glare at her again. "Hey, you punched me, remember? This is a natural reaction, it doesn't mean I'm weak."

"Yeah, okay, pretty boy." She sits down beside him and he tries to frown at all the new nicknames he is receiving, but it hurts to make any facial expression apparently, so he just settles for the slightly wincing, slightly emotionless look.

There is silence for a moment. "Why were you pissed?" He looks up at her from the floor, seeing her fiddling with the laces on her trainers, her legs crossed beside his chest.

She sighs and rubs a hand over her face. "This guy I know. He's being a total dick to me, so I'm angry."

"What has he done?"

"He's fallen in love."

He frowns slightly at her, which doesn't hurt as much as he expects. "And is that wrong?"

She looks scandalised at his question. "I'm his best friend. And now suddenly it's all 'Cosette this, Cosette that' and 'oh my god, Cosette loves the colour pink, it suits her so well' and all of this bullshit that I don't care about."

He frowns slightly in recognition. He swears he has heard that name somewhere before. She carries on talking.

"And not only do I have to deal with hearing him talk about her _constantly_ , now he is asking me to find out where she lives."

He raises an eyebrow with rising ease. "'Find out where she lives'?"

"Her and I used to be friends," she rolls her eyes, "I introduced them, but Marius can't work up the courage to find out her address himself."

He opens his eyes wide and stares at her. He wants to sit up and talk to her normally, but he's pretty sure she would just punch him again, so he stays put on the floor. "Pontmercy?"

"Yeah." Her lips lift a bit. "You know him?"

"He goes to some of my group's meetings sometimes. He's very inconsistent. Perhaps you could talk to him about that." He rolls his eyes.

"Wait, are you Enj- I don't quite know how to pronounce it." She shakes her head and scrunches up her nose cutely, and Enjolras finds himself wondering how such an adorable person could be so _scary_.

"Enjolras. Yes, that's me, why? Has Marius spoken about me?" He smiles slightly thinking that this woman knows who he is, which seriously _should not_ make him feel happy inside, because _oh my god what the hell is happening_.

"He asked me to accompany him to your meeting once. Les Amis, right?" When he nods his head, she continues. "Well, he said that I could teach you a few lessons, knock you down a few pegs." She smirks down at him. "And, hey, look at that, I suppose I did."

He rolls his eyes at her but smiles anyway. "You should have come to the meeting! We really could use somebody like you. We don't have any women in our group yet. And I think the guys would like you. Bahorel would love you, actually!"

She raises an eyebrow and thinks for a moment. "He's the fighter, right?"

"Yeah! How did you know?"

"Marius introduced me to Bahorel and Courfeyrac. Bahorel and I had so much fun, I won him at arm wrestling." She giggles. "And Courfeyrac is...interesting."

"Interesting?"

"He spent the entire half an hour trying to flirt with me, and he wrote his number on my arm just before they left." She sounds uninterested, and it pleases him for some unexplainable reason.

"Yeah, that's Courfeyrac. He's the Don Juan of the group, so to speak."

She leans down to him, and she is so close that he can see the gold flecks in her eyes. She spreads her legs out behind her and lays her stomach on the floor, her chin resting on her hands. "And you're the untouchable marble leader. Well, it certainly would be fun to meet your other friends now."

"Why?" He asks with a wince, not wanting to know the answer.

"Because I've proved that I can touch you." She places her hand on his chest to prove this. "And because your nose looks broken. I'm sure they'd love to meet the girl who can crack marble with a half aimed, powerless punch." She smirks, and his eyes flash.

"No, you know what, I can already- wait, can I sit up now? This conversation would be so much easier if I could sit up." He looks at her seriously from the floor, waiting for her approval.

She considers him for a second. "Okay."

He pushes through the pain in his head and sits up, crossing his legs and turning to her, finally above her as she lays on the floor. He takes the red cloth from his nose, now stained with his blood and, after saying a quick prayer to whatever was up there that he wouldn't miss, throws it at the bin near the chairs. When it glides straight in, she turns to him with a smirk.

"Good shot."

"Thank you." He clears his throat. "Now, back to the previous subject. You cannot say that to my friends, they will tease me so much. They already mock me about everything, adding this to their repertoire is just going to send me over the edge. _I_ will punch someone-" he pauses, "wait, what is your name?"

"Éponine." She smiles.

He nods. "Éponine." It sounds nice when he says it, and he realises that he likes the name already. He likes her already. _Damn_ it.

"I'd just like you to know, Enjolras, that I am going to recount this entire experience to your friends, purely for the sole purpose of making your life a living hell." She grins at him mischievously.

"Does that mean that you'll start coming to the meetings?" He can't even hide his grin now.

She grins back. "When and where are they?"

"Every night, 6pm, at the cafe Musian."

Her eyes widen. " _Every night?"_

He nods seriously. "Every night."

She seems to think about it for a few moments. "Okay, I'll go tomorrow. But if you're even the tiniest bit annoying, I will either leave or make that broken nose unfixable."

"You're ruthless." He looks at her in wonder.

"Well, if you're gonna-"

She is interrupted by the cheery voice of Tim, the gym guy. "Enjolras, it's time to- _oh_ , right." He clears his throat. "It's 5 to 11, time to go."

Enjolras stands, signalling thanks to the man and then smiling down at Éponine. "Ready?" He reaches down for her hand and she takes it gracefully.

His head is still aching, but he can push through it. After all, he will _definitely_ get a good night's sleep tonight.

* * *

 _ **Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it! Please review with any comments you have. Seriously, I'm desperate for them.**_


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